


An Element of Blank

by Sheila_Snow



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-12-01
Updated: 1999-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 00:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheila_Snow/pseuds/Sheila_Snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan is hiding something from his Master . . . with some rather devasting consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Element of Blank

**  
**

  
****   
  


>   
>  _Pain has an element of blank;_   
>  _It cannot recollect_   
>  _When it began, or if there were_   
>  _A day when it was not._
> 
> _It has no future but itself,_  
>  _Its infinite realms contain_  
>  _Its past, enlightened to perceive_  
>  _New periods of pain._
> 
> _Emily Dickinson:  "Pain Has an Element of Blank"_  
> 

  


  


   

  
  "An Element of Blank"

  
The small presence became self-aware long before the young ones of other species did.  It was not just an individual aberrance, but a trait its species used to ensure that there _were_ future generations.  This was not its only survival characteristic, but it was its most important one.  Without the ability to be self-aware, it would not have been able to use its innate telepathic abilities to search and eventually bond with the One that would allow it ultimately to survive.

The young one waited, and searched, and shivered in its makeshift nest . . . alone in the darkness.

\--------------------------------

Soon to be ex-Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi winced and tried to shift to a slightly more comfortable position.  He quickly found there was none.  Sighing, he pushed himself up and gazed pensively around him, unconsciously brushing away the fine bead of sweat that graced his furrowed brow.

Still the same.  His cot was the same, the myriad flickering flashes of light that poured through the half-drawn curtains of his smallish room were certainly the same.  Coruscant never slept.  It was never fully dark, even in the fullest expanse of the deepest night, even when you thought it should be . . . must be.  Even when in the murkiest reflections of your own heart and soul, you knew the rest of the wretched world just _had_ to be.  But it was never fully dark.

Throwing his feet over to perch on the side of the cot, he thought briefly about getting something cool to drink.  It was very late, but he was hot and parched.  He often was these days.  However, in order to get to the small kitchen and assuage this purely physical need, he would have to go through the common room.  He couldn't face that, not just now.  Not when the world was at its darkest, not when he was at his calmest, not when he was at the closest he ever came anymore to being at peace.  He simply couldn't face it.

Besides, thirst was a simple biological imperative, and biological imperatives were things his Master had said oftentimes could and should be denied.

And he never had -- never could -- go against anything his Master had told him to be truth.

He rose somewhat unsteadily to his feet; he had not slept much or well since they had returned from Naboo.  He reached out a fine-boned hand and opened his window to breathe in the cooler night air, letting the searching, nurturing breeze bathe his overheated and sweat-laden limbs.  After a time, he gently teased the dark curtains as tightly closed as he could but left the window open -- knowing that in meditation he could blank out the ceaseless sounds and noises of the giant metropolis since his Master's rooms were situated so high above the seething population.

Yet, recently, he seemed to have this inexplicable difficulty blocking out the simple sensory input of _light_ during his meditation, and he so desperately needed to succeed in this tonight.  He did not want this problem now -- not this previously trivial distraction that he had heretofore been able to block with almost no effort on his part at all.  He was a senior padawan, after all, ready to take the Trials, or so his Master had assured him.

So why did he have so much difficulty blocking out the Sith-be-damned light?

Obi-Wan sank somewhat less gracefully than normal to his knees and bowed his head in preparation.  He tightened his shields to his most adamantine, not wanting to accidentally disturb his Master at this late hour of the night.  Closing his eyes as tightly as he could, he grimaced slightly, frustrated at discerning still the faintest of glows through his eyelids.

It was a shame it was never fully dark on Coruscant.

\--------------------------------

The night had long since passed when Qui-Gon Jinn awoke, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.  As well he should.  All was right with his world, his apprentice would soon be taking the Trials, and Qui-Gon knew without a doubt in his mind that the young Obi-Wan would pass -- a more dutiful and eager padawan he had never trained.

He felt a slight twinge of regret knowing that their long relationship would soon be past, but Force and Obi-Wan willing, he had ideas about that as well.  Obi-Wan had actually brought up the subject himself years ago, but Qui-Gon had felt it too soon in the young man's life to be embarking on that kind of a relationship.  The boy was bright, eager and very strong in the Force, but Qui-Gon had felt him too needful of his Master's approval to feel comfortable with allowing that kind of closeness.  He wanted Obi-Wan to learn self-reliance -- and now that he considered it -- his gentle refusal of Obi-Wan's advances had been just the catalyst needed for the boy to stand more on his own feet.  If anything, Obi-Wan had worked even harder, and he had handled the rejection well without any untoward changes in their working or personal relationship.  Qui-Gon was well pleased.

Soon it would be time to approach Obi-Wan with his own plans.  _No sense burdening the boy with that right now_, he scolded himself.  _Obi-Wan needed to be concentrating on preparing himself mentally and emotionally for his Trials, not having to consider the wants and needs of his old Master!_

Besides, things had been so hectic here of late -- for both of them -- that Qui-Gon had braced his thoughts tightly behind his shields, not wishing to put more on Obi-Wan than was necessary.

Qui-Gon also had his new charge to consider -- his soon-to-be padawan Anakin.  The fledgling bond required even more shielding on Qui-Gon's part -- this in order to allow the still delicate bond to grow without the interference of the much stronger bond with his existing padawan.  There was a reason having two apprentices was against the Code.  He smiled to himself wryly.  Even he, the noted rebel Qui-Gon Jinn, was forced to see the logic in that.  It was difficult on all parties concerned, but especially for his two young apprentices.

However, regardless of the Council's protestations and warnings, he knew that Anakin must be trained -- that the boy needed only love, guidance and attention to become strong in the Force and therefore avoid the Dark Side.  Mostly, he just needed attention, to replace that of the mother he had been forced to leave behind.

Thankfully, he hadn't needed to explain any of this to Obi-Wan as the young man had handled their awkward situation with his usual grace and serenity -- giving his Master and Anakin the time they needed to forge the beginnings of their training bond.  He was unfailingly polite and kind to the young boy.  The astuteness and caring of Obi-Wan never ceased to amaze him, and Qui-Gon made a mental note to tell him that . . . soon.

He arose and dressed carefully.  One must always maintain the proper image of a Jedi Master, even in one's own quarters.  He allowed himself a smile here though, in private, knowing that soon he would have the ineffable pleasure and privilege of severing his apprentice's braid and raising him to the much-deserved status of Jedi Knight.

To think that the Sith they had faced on Naboo had nearly robbed him of that right.  He shivered briefly at the remembrance of just how close that unthinkable event had been.

He straightened fractionally.  No matter.  The past was what was . . . and the future was his to mold, with the Force willing.  Obi-Wan's Trials would begin as soon as Yoda returned from off-planet, and though he knew the delay was fretting the young man, their lives would soon settle down to a routine once more.

With these thoughts to bolster him, Qui-Gon walked into the common room and smiled at the tangled heap of blankets and Anakin lying strewn across the couch.  The bright light from the large windows overlooking the Temple grounds permeated even the farthest corners of the generously sized room, but Anakin was doing his best to delay the inevitable by pulling the blankets over his head and burrowing into the seat cushions.  Qui-Gon smiled at the seeming universal youthful aversion to mornings and reached to place a gentle hand on where he surmised the youngster's shoulder to be.

He stopped the movement, however, when he belatedly sensed an ambiguous presence behind him . . . directly behind him.

"Master, you can let him sleep a few minutes yet."

Qui-Gon straightened and whirled to find Obi-Wan only a few steps behind him.  _Now, why wasn't I able to sense his approach?_ Qui-Gon wondered, his eyes narrowing in confusion.  He and his apprentice had always shared a closeness uncommon with a mere training bond -- a fact which had saved their lives countless times. 

_He's shielding!  But, why?_  Qui-Gon's face took on an unconsciously stern visage as he attempted to puzzle out this unwelcome development.

Obi-Wan took a few hasty steps backward.  "I'm sorry, Master.  I didn't mean to disturb you.  I . . . I had not quite finished preparing the morning meal and I . . . I thought the boy could sleep until it was done."  He bowed his head contritely, almost as if expecting a reprimand.

Qui-Gon examined his apprentice more carefully, almost as surprised at the submissive posture as he was by the tightened shields.  "It is all right, Obi-Wan," he replied distractedly.  "You merely startled me."

"It won't happen again, Master.  I am sorry."  The boy still would not raise his head.

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed even further, reaching out with his hand and mind to the young man standing before him. 

Before either could reach their destination, Obi-Wan bowed hurriedly to his Master and stepped back again.  "I'll just finish the morning meal, if I may?"  Without waiting for a reply, the boy nearly fled to the adjoining kitchen area, ignoring the outstretched hand and puzzled gaze of his Master.

\--------------------------------

_That was too close_, Obi-Wan thought as he leaned tiredly against the counter.  He didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to keep this up.  He knew he should be ready to become a Knight, because Qui-Gon had said it was so.  But in his heart, he was not sure he was worthy of such an honor.  He, the apprentice who nobody wanted.  The apprentice that the great Qui-Gon Jinn had taken on -- Obi-Wan was sure -- out of a mere sense of duty.

_The apprentice who continued to entertain certain feelings for his Master that were most certainly inappropriate, against the Code . . . and very explicitly unwanted._

Qui-Gon's unexpected announcement to the Council to sever their Master-Apprentice relationship had hurt, but Obi-Wan was used to pain, used to the uncertainty, had toughened up his psyche through the years to deal with the little hurts.

It was just the big hurts that seemed to get to him lately.

Obi-Wan sighed, and winced as he straightened.  Annoyed and distracted, he reached around and worried at the cut scored across his back during their encounter with the Sith.  _Guess I should get it checked out at some point,_ he thought, and then dismissed it just as quickly.  He hated when his Master felt compelled to bring him or visit him in the medical unit.  It made him feel even more like the oafish apprentice who couldn't put a foot forward without falling over it.

Like he had in their battle with the Sith.

_Tomorrow, I'll get it looked at tomorrow_, he assured himself.

Besides, it didn't really bother him that much, and one can get accustomed to any pain when one's had it long enough.  He figured he could even get used to Anakin -- if he and the boy ended up spending enough time together, that is.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes again as the familiar pain washed once more through him.  Not likely, that.  Not when very soon -- assuming he could manage not to fail his Master again by making a laughable travesty of his Trials -- he would be a Knight himself.  And alone.

_Blank walls_, he thought to himself, an old mantra he had used many, many times over the past few years to hide his desires, misgivings and pain from his precious Master.  He knew he could never completely shield his thoughts from a determined Jedi Master, but the illusion of a bright expanse of blank wall had so far given him the ability to camouflage his considerable hidden flaws.  He had only a few days left till his Trials.  He could make it until then.  His Master need never know.

\--------------------------------

The young one mewled piteously.  Blind at birth, it lived in darkness, though it did not perceive this as a handicap.  Light would be a mere distraction, a hindrance in its biologic necessity to find the One.  Darkness was a succor, it allowed the little creature to better see the bright shining cord which led to that which it sought.  It needed only the One -- to cherish it, to guide it, to bring it finally toward adulthood and completion.  But it was growing weaker, and time was perilously short.

\--------------------------------

Qui-Gon Jinn had started forward after his wayward apprentice when a sleepy voice stopped him.

"Master Jinn?" The boy rubbed the sleep out of his eyes in the timeless, endearing way of all children.  Qui-Gon could remember a time not so long ago when it was his Obi-Wan who had awakened so.  Though Qui-Gon loved the poised and determined man his padawan had become, he sometimes missed the needful child.  The one who came to him for comfort and solace.

Anakin looked up into his soon-to-be Master's eyes.  "Is everything all right?"

"Why do you feel there is something wrong, little one?" Qui-Gon sat down by the young boy and ruffled his hair affectionately.

The boy shrugged.  "Things feel kinda . . . I dunno . . . weird."

Qui-Gon smiled down at the child ruefully.  Strong in the Force Anakin may be, but his grasp of delicate nuance was obviously something that still needed work.  "Would you care to try to narrow that down a bit?"  He smiled again, careful to assure that Anakin felt no censure in his question.

The boy shrugged again.  "You and . . . Obi-Wan. . . ." 

Anakin stalled again, and Qui-Gon waited, suddenly apprehensive, giving the boy time to work through his feelings in the Force. 

The solemn face brightened suddenly.  "It feels kinda like when one of the beta flow regulators in a hyperdrive is working, but not at full capacity, and so the whole hyperdrive unit kinda oscillates around this one flaw in the regulator."  Anakin's words became more rapid as he continued.  "You can sorta make up for it by re-tuning the Klystron into the upper theta bands and it works, but not quite right."  He paused briefly for air.  "You see what I mean?" He gazed earnestly up at the big Jedi.

Qui-Gon sat back on the couch with a thump, bemused.  Of course the boy would see it in mechanical terms -- that was how he had been raised -- but was he seeing true?  Were he and Obi-Wan "out of tune"? 

Obi-Wan had seemed more closed off from him of late, and Qui-Gon realized he couldn't say exactly how long Obi-Wan had felt the need to shield so tightly against him.  He was aware the situation was partly his own doing though, knowing Obi-Wan would soon face his Trials . . . and dare not . . . _could_ not rely on his Master for that most important event in his young life.

In any event, he had time to discuss it with the young man.  Yoda was not due back for some time yet, so Obi-Wan's Trials were not directly imminent.  He would meditate on it tonight.

Qui-Gon stiffened abruptly as he had a sudden, unwanted thought.  He had thought Obi-Wan was handling this well, but maybe that assumption was not entirely correct.  "I think I understand, Anakin," he said softly, finally answering the boy.  He turned and fixed an unconsciously hawk-like gaze on the young initiate.  "Has Obi-Wan . . . treated you kindly, Anakin?"

The boy straightened minutely as if perceiving the seriousness of this particular question, but he answered without hesitation.  "Oh, yes, Master Jinn."  He twisted his hands in his lap and gazed down at them, briefly in thought.  "He doesn't say much, and he seems kinda . . . sad sometimes, I guess.  But he's always nice to me."  He smiled hesitantly.

Qui-Gon let out the breath he didn't realized he was holding.  He hadn't really thought Obi-Wan was jealous of the boy, but the elder padawan had been more aloof than usual and he had to be sure.  It would do Anakin uncounted harm if he felt at all rejected now in this particular time of turmoil in his young life.  He stood up and reached for the young boy's hand.  "Come," he said brightly.  "Why don't we see what Obi-Wan has fixed for morning meal, hmm?"

\--------------------------------

Anakin skipped happily along in Qui-Gon's wake.  He thought briefly about mentioning the big, white wall he kept sensing when Obi-Wan talked with him, but he was sure that Master Jinn knew about it himself.  He was a Jedi Master, after all, and had known Obi-Wan for _eons_.

And, besides, it was kinda hard to miss.

\--------------------------------

The darkness was still not a hindrance, but as the little one began to absorb more of its species' racial memories into its conscious mind, it wondered at the incomprehensible, fleeting images of things that it had no frame of reference to.  It began to realize that these images were "seen" with light, but it could not yet comprehend or resolve their meanings into its own existence. 

It knew that the One would feed these images into its mind and then, eventually, it would be able to see these wondrous things on its own as it matured.  But for now, the darkness was all it had.  And it was so very alone.

\--------------------------------

Qui-Gon did his best to answer the latest barrage of questions from the young denizen from Tatooine, amazed that the boy had time to eat with all his talking.  But sure enough, his plate was almost clean.  _Oh, the energy and enthusiasm of youth,_ he thought with an internal smile. 

Anakin directed his next series of questions at Obi-Wan, who answered each and every one with the same even, pleasant tones that had always been a balm to Qui-Gon's spirit.  While the boy was distracted, Qui-Gon took the opportunity to begin clearing away the dishes before Anakin's insatiable appetite started in on the napkins.

As he passed Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon paused in mild concern.  Though he was talking with Anakin animatedly enough, there was something not quite right with his student's posture.  And . . .

"Obi-Wan?  Are you not going to finish your breakfast?" Qui-Gon asked.  Though his padawan had been obviously pushing his food around his plate, he didn't appear to have actually consumed much of it.

He watched as Obi-Wan straightened and turned almost apprehensively in his chair to face him, wincing slightly.  "Ah, no, Master."  He paused as if considering what or how much to say.  "I guess I most have sampled too much while I was preparing the meal."  He grinned and looked up sheepishly from behind his braid -- a maneuver he had used before when trying to charm his master out of probing too deeply.

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed in concentration, and when Obi-Wan started to realize this was not placating his Master, Qui-Gon was surprised to find a look of something approaching . . . panic cross his padawan's face before it smoothed over once more into its usual composed visage.  His padawan had obviously not been eating properly, and it had been nearly a week since they had returned from Naboo.  Surely his padawan had not been that thin before that Sith- be-damned mission.

"Padawan, are you well?" the big Jedi finally asked.

"Of . . . of course, Master."  If possible, Obi-Wan seemed to sit up even straighter in his chair.  He met the eyes of his Master of more than twelve years.  "Why do you ask?"

Qui-Gon sighed.  He knew he was not going to get a straight answer out of Obi-Wan when he was in "Perfect Padawan" mode, especially with Anakin present, and he knew better than to try.  He thought back over the past week, remembering how he had assigned the boy extra duties and katas to prevent an unoccupied mind from becoming too nervous about his upcoming Trials.  The loss of appetite could be just a case of jittery nerves, and then again he could have been merely working the boy too hard and had been too busy to notice while getting Anakin familiar with his new surroundings.  Force knew his padawan would never admit to being overburdened; it was one of his few faults.  He sighed again.  Well, that at least he could remedy.

"Obi-Wan, I would like you to call Mace and cancel your training session with him today."  At the look of incipient protest that Obi-Wan looked ready to give, Qui-Gon held up his hand.  "I have decided that we could all use a change of venue from the Temple grounds."  At the continued looks of puzzlement from his two young charges, he added, "We are going on a . . . field trip."

\--------------------------------

The young creature had just about given up.  Although it could sense the wellspring of suitable minds nearby, it was not strong enough to touch one from this distance.  It had had too brief an existence to know what pain and despair were intellectually, but it knew intimately their effect.  It was dying . . . and soon, soon the pain would be gone.

\--------------------------------

Qui-Gon smiled as he watched Anakin race ahead of them across the large expanse of sea-green grass, his small form darting in and out between the stately trees.  Having been raised on a desert world, this extensive park of verdant living things placed like a jewel amidst the setting of the planet-wide city that was Coruscant must seem an extravagant paradise to him.  Anakin tripped on something -- perhaps his own flying feet -- and sprawled, all legs and arms, before he sprang back up again, laughing, and raced off in yet another direction.  Qui-Gon stopped suddenly and folded his arms in his sleeves, expecting there was little Anakin could find to get himself into trouble here.

What he did not expect was Obi-Wan to bump into him from behind.

He whirled, impossibly fast for such a large man, and caught his apprentice before he could fall.  "Obi-Wan?" he asked worriedly.

Obi-Wan looked disoriented for a brief moment, but then his face cleared and he stepped back hurriedly when he realized he was being held in his Master's arms.  Qui-Gon allowed it, barely, but asked again simply, "Padawan?"

His apprentice swallowed nervously, looking down at the ground before he finally replied.  "I'm all right, Master.  It is just so bright out here."  Obi-Wan lifted his head slowly, squinting up at his Master's face through the glare of Coruscant's single yellow primary.  Obi-Wan smiled lopsidedly.  "I think I've spent so long preparing for my Trials and trying to be wary of the Dark Side, that I've forgotten what the light looks like."

When Qui-Gon said nothing in reply to his feeble attempt at humor, simply staring at his apprentice closely, Obi-Wan continued, "Perhaps I should have spent more time with you out in the bright suns of Tatooine and less time in a darkened ship?"

The tone was almost plaintive, and Qui-Gon stepped closer to his padawan learner, intent on finally discovering what was bothering the boy.

He was stopped by the vocal and mental cry of an extremely distraught Anakin.

\--------------------------------

_At last!_  The little creature feebly raised tiny new-fletched wings.  The One was approaching its nest, and it felt the smallest flickering of hope as it mentally reached out to its aura. 

It was still young and inexperienced, but it knew it had just this one chance, and to fail . . . was to die.

\--------------------------------

"Anakin, what is it?  What's wrong?" Qui-Gon raced to a stop before the crouching Anakin, peripherally aware of Obi-Wan stopping alongside him.  He could sense nothing physically wrong with the child, but he was still emanating waves of emotional distress out into the Force.

Anakin said nothing in reply, merely turning to kneel and hold out his open hands.  Qui-Gon peered closer to see what the boy held and then gasped.  He quickly looked up to Obi-Wan to see if he recognized the tiny creature, but his apprentice merely raised an interrogative eyebrow in reply to the unspoken question.

He sat down abruptly when he saw the intent expression on Anakin's face, fearing it was already far too late.  He sighed heavily.

"What is it, Master?" Obi-Wan finally asked, knowing it could not be dangerous because his Master had allowed it to stay in Anakin's hands, but not understanding the rest of the big Jedi's reaction.

"It is a dhu-Linth," Qui-Gon replied heavily.  The little creature raised its multi-hued head at the sound of Qui-Gon's voice and chirped weakly.  He felt the first tentative probing of its desperate, untrained mind and sighed again.  _Why me?  Why now of all times?_

"Master?" Obi-Wan prompted, and Qui-Gon first absentmindedly soothed the tiny alien mind trying so urgently to gain his attention before turning to his apprentice.

"It is a proscribed species from Serloan IV.  When the Republic surveyors discovered its inhabitants were not only minimally sentient, but Force sensitive, they declared the planet off-limits to colonization and/or exploitation.  This should not be here."  He glared at the young dhu-Linth, and the tiny creature merely raised its tiny vestigial wings, preening in its effort to be noticed even though the iridescent air-filled scales that would eventually adorn them had yet to develop fully.

When the creature subsequently wobbled weakly and would have fallen from Anakin's hands, the boy asked, alarmed, "What's wrong with it?"

"It's dying," both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan replied simultaneously.

When Qui-Gon looked over at Obi-Wan in surprise, the boy said merely, "No, I don't know why.  I can just feel it. . . ."  He sank slowly to the ground across from Anakin and stared at the feebly struggling dhu-Linth.  "It's in pain, pain to the point of giving in to the darkness, pain to the point of letting go. . . ."  Obi-Wan shook himself slightly as if to clear his head and turned to Qui-Gon for confirmation, who merely nodded.  He heard Anakin's sharp gasp of denial.

"But, but we can feed it, take care of it, take it to the Healers. . . ."

"Anakin, it needs more than that.  It requires . . . a bond with another Force sensitive, sort of like a training bond among the Jedi, but stronger, more exclusive."  He cleared his thoughts, reaching for what little knowledge was known of the little creatures.  "They are blind until maturity, and are guided through their growing years by a close mental link with an adult of their species.  The "parents" have nothing to do with the hatchlings once they are born.  It is merest chance that a young one will find a suitable adult available to bond."

"But how do you know that it can bond with humans?" Obi-Wan asked curiously.

"Because I have seen such pairings, though never with a Jedi.  Alhough the planet is now off-limits, there were a few "specimens" that had been brought off-world to study before realization of their limited sentience, and a few of the subsequent hatchlings bonded to humanoids who were very minor Force-sensitives." 

Much to Anakin's dismay, the little hatchling chose that moment to launch itself from his hands in an effort to reach the Jedi Master, though the motion seemed to cause it almost the last of its strength.  It fluttered weakly as it bounced slightly upon striking the ground, and then started inching its way to where the big Jedi sat.

When Anakin would have reached to recapture the struggling creature, Qui-Gon stated simply, "No, Anakin."

"But, but you said it would die.  It . . . it can bond with me!" Anakin said, gazing beseechingly up at his teacher.

Qui-Gon merely shook his head sadly.  "No, Anakin, the fact that it has not already established the bond with you leads me to believe it cannot.  I would assume because you are yet too young."  The dhu-Linth by this time had managed to struggle close enough to bump imploringly with its delicate head against the Master's calf, all the while broadcasting pain and distress to its intended host.

"But it could bond with you, Master Jinn," Anakin surmised shrewdly, looking up with an identical beseeching expression to that which the little creature was sending mentally.

"Anakin," Qui-Gon started gently, "though I have been accused before of gathering "pathetic life-forms. . . ."  he glanced over at Obi-Wan, who flashed an ever-too-brief smile back at his Master, ". . . .I simply cannot take the responsibility of nurturing this little one through the next five years.  Not now, not when the Jedi are so obviously at such a desperate crossroads, not when every Jedi is needed for the difficult times Yoda foresees ahead."  He again glanced over at his apprentice.  "Not when the Sith are once again among us." 

Qui-Gon continued with intense regret, "The care of this little one would require an almost constant monopolization of my time and mental resources for the foreseeable future, and this is something I, or Obi-Wan, dare not do."

"Then . . . then, maybe someone back at the Temple, a Healer, or. . . ."  Anakin was crying now, gently brushing the glowing, trembling wings with a gentle fingertip.

"No, it would be too late."  Qui-Gon reached over a comforting hand to the distressed boy.  "It would be best to allow it to die, Anakin.  It is an unfortunate but common occurrence among its kind."

"No, NO!" the boy screamed, the tears running freely down his young face.  "He can't die, he CAN'T."  The boy reached for the tiny dhu-Linth and clutched it to his chest.  "He just . . . can't." 

Anakin looked imploringly up at Qui-Gon, but Qui-Gon merely shook his head sadly. 

His features firming in youthful determination, Anakin very carefully met and held the Master's eyes and said, very softly, "You don't understand, you don't.  You've never lost anything, never lost anyone you really couldn't lose."  He stared into Qui-Gon's eyes until the Master thought he was burrowing into his very soul, all the while stoking the little hatchling's wings.  "You'll never understand," he repeated and broke the eye contact, returning his full attention to the dying creature in his hands.

Qui-Gon frowned worriedly, Anakin was taking this hard . . . way too hard.  The Jedi Master's facial muscles relaxed briefly as he retreated from the physical and examined more closely the slowly dimming mental calls coming from the little dhu-Linth . . . and the far brighter Force signature of the youngster from Tatooine.  He closed his eyes then in resignation.  _So._  It was as he had suspected.  Anakin may not be mature enough to meet what the creature needed to survive, but the boy had somehow still managed to form a link with it. 

_No wonder he can't bear the thought of losing it._

And here he thought his time on Coruscant would be less complicated than his missions off-planet.  There were too many crises happening at once, too many individuals he needed to care for, too many conflicting mental bonds clamoring for his attention.  He sighed again.  There was no help for it -- to lose the dhu-Linth now would cause untold harm to Anakin's psyche -- and there was a way . . . perhaps . . . to resolve this after all.

He thought he could make it work, anyhow.  If only the blasted endless sendings of pain he kept receiving would cease for a moment, it might aid his decision-making processes somewhat.

The first step would be to tune out the existing bond with Obi-Wan.  Qui-Gon knew he would need minute control of the incipient bond with the dhu-Linth if he were to make this work, and the pervasive link he shared with Obi-Wan would make that impossible.  He concentrated briefly, relegating the training bond to a portion of his mind where it did not impinge upon his conscious mind.  It was a fairly easy maneuver for a senior Master, used in the Jedi's war-torn ancient past as an exercise to better prepare an apprentice to survive should his Master die suddenly in battle.  It had not been used in centuries though, as there had been no need.

And he soon realized the reason why it was never used when he heard a sudden harsh, painful gasp.  He opened his eyes in brief panic.  _Obi-Wan!_  Qui-Gon half-turned his body as his peripheral vision caught the motion of his stricken apprentice, who was slowly toppling over onto the grass.  He braced the boy upright with one large hand, mentally blessing any gods there were that at least he hadn't pulled this stunt while Obi-Wan had been standing. 

_You're a thrice-damned fool, Qui-Gon Jinn.  You think you would have learned your lesson in the Council Chamber.  Why don't you find another way to pull the boy's world down around his ears?_

He crawled over to crouch in front of his apprentice, still bracing him upright.  All the blood seemed to have drained from his padawan's face, he was gasping -- hyperventilating it seemed -- his eyes wide open but unseeing, his face twisting about as if attempting to find something infinitely precious that it had somehow lost and must locate at all costs.

"Obi-Wan," he called softly, grasping his padawan's face in his hands.  Obi-Wan's mouth moved, but he seemed unable to speak, the face still attempting to turn in his hands.  He called louder, "Obi-Wan!" He squeezed his hands harder into the smooth, chilled flesh of his apprentice's cheeks, pressing the face upward, forcing him to meet his eyes.

Slowly, ever so slowly, those eyes lost their opaqueness and finally focused on Qui-Gon's.  "M . . m.master?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan," he said, as he released his face and pulled his apprentice to him in a hug, trying to reassure him with his body as he couldn't currently with his mind.

He was disturbed to hear Obi-Wan's breath catch in a sob.  "Don't you, don't you want. . . ."  the faint voice cut off and he felt the smaller body suddenly begin shaking.

"No, no, Obi-Wan, it's all right," he soothed, trying to comfort.  He moved one hand to stroke down his Obi-Wan's spine, knowing from times past that this was soothing to the young man.  He was therefore doubly surprised when Obi-Wan hissed a sharp breath inward and struggled weakly to escape from his Master's embrace.  In shock, Qui-Gon released him as if burned and the boy scrambled backwards out of reach.

"I'm . . . I'm all right," Obi-Wan managed, his eyes wide.  He bent down and tried to covertly brush a tear away before it could finish its track down his face, still breathing rapidly.

Qui-Gon rose to his feet and approached his apprentice, worry and alarm deepening the fine lines around his eyes.  He stumbled to a stop, however, when he met the stricken, distressed eyes of his padawan -- the much slighter form seeming to fold in upon itself as he gazed fearfully up at the looming form of his Master, whose already indigo-dark eyes were hooded by the brightness of the blazing primary behind him.

As Qui-Gon dropped down to his knees beside his cowering apprentice, the rays of light from the slowly setting sun that had been blocked by the bulk of his body struck the young man full in the face.  Obi-Wan let out a strangled half-scream and covered his eyes with his hands, his body still shaking.  Qui-Gon gripped Obi-Wan's hands in his much larger ones, feeling the surprisingly narrow wrists trembling uncontrollably as he tightened his fingers in concern.

Qui-Gon felt the persistent tug in the back of his mind from the desperate dhu-Linth but ignored it, knowing at this point he needed all of his concentration on his padawan.  He pulled gently on those wrists, forcing the hands down from the much-beloved face.  Qui-Gon frowned as Obi-Wan made a soft, distressed sound and lowered his chin to his chest, twisting to the right -- trying unsuccessfully to avoid both the light and his Master's fierce appraisal.

\--------------------------------

Obi-Wan made one futile attempt to free himself from his Master's grip and then subsided meekly, hating how the big Jedi's strength could manage to make him feel both protected and helpless at the same time.  He wished he could just dissolve down into the ground and not feel the feather light stroking of the soft, sensitive skin of his forearms by those blunt fingers. 

Even though it was something he craved to the very depths of his being.

By all the gods, but what his Master had done hurt.  He had thought for one moment that someone had reached inside his skull and ripped out the very essence of his being.  It was painful, exceedingly so, but it was not a physical hurt.  No, not physical.  He had merely lost the one thing that meant everything to him for so many years -- meant so much that he could not even remember what it was like living without it.

Until now.

He finally squinted up into his Master's face.

  


  
Qui-Gon gently clasped one comforting hand on Obi-Wan's cheek, surprised at how chill his skin felt.  "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," he repeated again.  "For what I intend to attempt with the dhu-Linth, I could not allow the distraction of the training bond."  He looked down into the wide, almost despairing eyes of his padawan learner and continued to reassure hurriedly, "I have not severed our bond, Obi- Wan, merely masked it so I can concentrate on the task ahead."

When Obi-Wan said nothing in reply, Qui-Gon continued, "I should have warned you first what I was attempting to do, but I forget sometimes that this bond has been your sole focus for most of your life -- or what it would do to have that focus removed so cavalierly.  Please forgive an old Master his shortsightedness."

Obi-Wan seemed to make a massive effort to regain his composure, smiling up wanly at the big Jedi.  "It's all right, Master," he said.  "I understand.  It was just a bit of a shock, that's all."  He straightened his shoulders and made a shy, tentative movement to free his captured hand. 

Qui-Gon reluctantly released his apprentice, his hand brushing lightly along Obi-Wan's palm in doing so . . . almost with a mind of its own. 

Obi-Wan again shuddered but looked up into Qui-Gon's eyes and said, "Don't worry about me, Master.  I'll be fine.  Do what you need to do."

"Obi-Wan, are you sure you are comfortable with this?"

"Yes, Master," was his quiet reply.

Qui-Gon inhaled a deep breath and closed his eyes.  Forgetting for a moment what he had just managed to accomplish, he attempted to reach out to Obi-Wan's mind with his own for reassurance.  Sighing again in exasperation at himself, he stood up and reached down a hand to help his still-ashen padawan to his feet.  "Padawan, I would like you to return to the Temple.  I'm afraid that even without being able to touch your mind, the distraction of your presence would be enough to keep me from completing what I need to do here.  And more importantly," he continued with his best stern, overprotective Master's frown, "I think it would be best if you made a visit to the Healers."

Obi-Wan said nothing, merely nodding his head a fraction in assent.

"I'm worried about you, Obi-Wan.  Your Trials will be soon and you'll need to have all your wits about you."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied.  He looked up into Qui-Gon's face, meeting his eyes again in determination.  "I promise you, Master.  I will not fail you."  With that, he spun on his heel rather less gracefully than was his norm and walked alone back through the park towards the Temple.

Qui-Gon watched him walk away with a worried frown until a determined pull on his mind pushed him back into the present and his most pressing problem.  This would be a delicate process, and he was not sure even with his many years of experience that he would be able to carry it out successfully.  He would try for Anakin's sake, for the dhu-Linth's, and for his own.  He did have a soft spot for helpless creatures -- it was an unfortunate side effect of his empathy -- but also something which made him the skilled and successful negotiator that he was.

He put all of his concentration into strengthening the incipient link with the tiny creature.  His goal was simple, but he was not sure that the execution would be as such.  With Anakin already possessing a burgeoning but tenuous contact with the creature, he hoped to link with the dhu-Linth enough to save its life but then transfer most of the burden of that link through the Master-Apprentice bond to imprint it onto Anakin as well.  The dhu-Linth would live, having linked with one who met its biological needs for survival, but Anakin could take over the day-to-day care and nurturing of the demanding little beast.  Since the hardships of his slave upbringing had forced him into more maturity than a normal child of his tender years, he felt the dhu-Linth would be able to accept that compromise. 

It was not an ideal situation, but it was one Qui-Gon thought would work.  And having the responsibility of caring for a helpless creature that was solely beholden to him for its very existence would probably vastly benefit the boy.

_This should not take long_, thought Qui-Gon, and then he would be able to return to the Temple and find out at last what was troubling Obi-Wan so. 

After he had a long talk with the Healers.

\--------------------------------

Obi-Wan Kenobi stumbled again and would have fallen except for the timely assistance of a nearby wall.  _Funny_, he thought, _it didn't feel like this long of a trip on the way out._

The tender, lacerated remains of the training bond burned him still like the white-hot tip of a deep space welder.  Obi-Wan thought he had known what pain was.  However, all the physical pain he had suffered in the bungled missions in which they'd been forced to fight, all of his mishandled practice bouts, all the sundry injuries he had amassed since joining the Order, _all_ of those were nothing compared to the mind-numbing shock when Qui-Gon Jinn had -- without warning and with little apparent forethought -- occluded their training bond.

He laughed at himself bitterly.  Here he thought he would be ready when he had finished his Trials -- for with the severing of his padawan braid would also come the severing of his decade-long link with his Master.  He had thought he would be able to make his Master proud -- thought he could be strong when that time came -- but he now knew it was all grave, misguided overconfidence on his part.  He had heard his Master's words, heard and understood, knew in his mind that what his Master had just done was necessary.  But with his heart, he knew that the precipitous action had merely proved what he already come to expect:  that he was merely a dependent and overwrought nuisance not worthy to be the apprentice of Qui-Gon Jinn -- the eminent Jedi Master who apparently considered the loss of their link of no significant concern.

His bleak introspection was interrupted by a sudden, burning flash of pain that originated in his back and shot like a lance up to his right shoulder blade.  He staggered and fell to one knee, somehow managing enough coherence to politely decline the murmured question of a passing humanoid spacer -- who was still young and naive enough to offer assistance to a total stranger here in this heartless center of the Republic that was Coruscant.  Obi-Wan rose shakily to his feet and walked unsteadily to the relative safety and blessed darkness of an alcove off the busy street, desperately hoping to avoid further attention.

He leaned his forehead against the gray, featureless syncrete of the massive structure composing one gigantic wall in his little haven and gradually sank to the littered ground.  As he had been taught with countless lessons over his many years as an apprentice, he attempted to relegate the pain back into a small channel in his mind and disperse it thence through the Force.  He had often privately thought that this was a colossal waste of Force energy -- seeing as it would work fairly easily for physical pain or injuries, but it never seemed to help him with his now almost constant emotional turmoil.

Obi-Wan was therefore doubly disappointed in himself when even this simple exercise in physical pain control seemed to elude him.  He knew the injury was not serious, so why wasn't he able to dissipate this minor amount of pain into the Force?  The stabbing pain took what felt an eternity to fade, but fade it did, and eventually he felt well enough to rise again to weary feet.

Shaking his head in self-immolation, he straightened his back resolutely and started back again towards the Jedi Temple.  He would attempt to meditate until Qui-Gon returned.  He would learn to conquer his failings.  He would not fail his Master, again. 

Though Qui-Gon had suggested that he see the Healers, he had not quite made it an order, so Obi-Wan felt justified in seeking the preferred solace of meditation instead.  He had time, his injury was not severe, and it was not even dark yet.  He was sure he would be better once this irksome sun had set.

\--------------------------------

Qui-Gon explained his intentions to Anakin carefully, whose face brightened considerably when he discovered there was a chance after all to save the tiny creature.  Qui-Gon settled himself in the soft grass in the quiet park as the sun settled slowly below the building-strewn skyline, and he prepared to open yet another link in an already overcrowded mind.

Qui-Gon gathered the now almost insensate creature into one gentle hand.  He reached with his mind, seeking out the tiny Force signature of the little one's presence.  The sky had darkened almost completely before he at last felt the tentative "voice" of the tiny dhu-Linth that had chosen the Jedi Master for itself.  Qui-Gon strengthened the unraveling gossamer thread until it coalesced into a bright shining cord, sparking with contentment and promise.  The little dhu-Linth chirruped happily -- and with greater strength -- now that it felt the comforting presence of its Chosen.

And the dhu-Linth grasped wholeheartedly the link that it needed to survive.

\--------------------------------

Rather than head for the main meditation gardens perched like a noisy afterthought amidst the busiest part of the temple, Obi-Wan instinctively headed to the tiny, secluded garden off the eastern parapet.  It was quiet and deserted -- for very few Jedi would go this far out -- and more importantly, it was a favored spot of his Master's.  It had therefore quickly become a favorite of Obi-Wan's as well. 

This tiny portion of overgrown garden had the added benefit of being surrounded by lofty, inviolable walls on all four sides.  This -- combined with the towering trees and verdant overgrowth of tangled, untrained vines -- gave it a comforting, almost womb-like presence for those seeking the peace of meditation.

Obi-Wan sank painfully to his knees under the spreading boughs of a particularly exuberant specimen of panelle tree positioned directly alongside one wall of the garden -- its splendid scented foliage brushing the ground like a caress.  The massive tree, however, was considerate enough to leave a small open space that was just barely large enough for one extremely tall Jedi Master to kneel in comfort, and therefore it was more than sufficient to cocoon his much more compact Jedi apprentice.

As night fell, Obi-Wan wrapped his dark Jedi cloak more firmly around his shivering body, trying without success to fight off the unexpected chill.  He _would_ be able to meditate tonight.  He would succeed where he had failed so many times before, and he would accept that he was about to lose his Master . . . had more than likely already lost him.  If he passed his Trials and if the Jedi Order would have him -- being as flawed and careless an apprentice as he had been -- he would learn to do this on his own . . . learn to be the perfect Jedi Knight. 

He could deal with this all-encompassing feeling of loneliness amidst the multitude . . . he could.  He was sure that eventually he would get used to the loneliness, as he had eventually accustomed himself to the unceasing pain of desiring an unobtainable Jedi Master. 

After all, no pain could go on forever.  Entropy worked both ways.

Obi-Wan did so much love this spot.  The massive tree spread its limbs on both sides of the high wall enclosing the little garden, but it seemed to concentrate its leafy efforts on this side of the barrier, leaving nothing but this one small enclave in exquisite privacy against the wall.  Even though his link with his Master was gone -- and whether it was temporary as Qui-Gon had said or permanent as Obi-Wan suspected -- here in this place he could still feel surrounded by his Master's aura . . . here where the big Jedi had spent so many hours in contemplation over his numerous years at the Temple headquarters.  It was a twisted kind of peace, but it was all the peace he had at the moment . . . and all the peace he was likely to have for some time to come.

Even if he couldn't hear the deep, sonorous tones of the Master's voice, feel the immense but gentle hands placed over his in subtle correction of his posture or his fighting stance, even though he could not in reality bathe in the soft brush of the big Jedi's mind -- the tender, wisping assurances when he had somehow managed to get something right -- here he could at least submerge himself in the echoes of the whorls and eddies of his Master's past presence. 

Blanking his mind against the constant, nagging pain in his back and closing his eyes against the still obtrusive light, he prepared himself to meditate . . . and this time to get it right.

\--------------------------------

Though still in darkness, it could feel again, could feel the gentle warmth of its Chosen's hand as it cradled it softly, felt the beat of his heart through the small vessels in his palm, could feel the gentle strokings of an overlarge finger as it coaxed circulation back into its limbs.  It was content, for at last it was whole -- was finally linked to the One that would complete it, guide it, teach it how to live. 

Gradually, like flower petals slowly unveiling in the first tentative rays of the morning sun, the link expanded to its entirety and in all its awesome beauty.  The little creature felt its Chosen's images, his life, his hopes, his love and caring for all things.  The dhu-Linth puffed out its tiny chest and warbled out a clear note of sheer ecstasy for all to hear -- determined to share its exquisite happiness in the only way it knew how.

\--------------------------------

Master Mace Windu smiled to himself as he approached the small meditation garden.  With Master Yoda off-planet, the ceaseless problems and questions of the far-flung Jedi organization seemed more often than not to fall on his shoulders, and it was pleasant to shed that cloak of responsibility and just _be_ for a while.  Qui-Gon had shown him this place many years ago, but it had been a long time since Mace had felt the need to visit here.  But these were difficult times indeed, and Mace sensed that they would become far more difficult, very soon.

As he stood in the very center of the secluded garden, he let out a practiced breath to relieve the tension in his shoulders and opened himself to the calming influence of the Force.  The Force seemed very strong in this place, perhaps because it had been used by so many Jedi over the centuries for just the very reason Mace was here tonight.  Its overlay of peace and serenity was almost palpable physically to him as he gazed up at the rapidly darkening skies overhead and felt the gentle breeze sigh like an expectant lover through the majestic trees.

The breeze suddenly strengthened into a gust and seemed to course single-mindedly toward a lone, gigantic panelle tree nestled along one wall of the garden, barely shifting the other foliage in either side of its direct path. 

_Odd_, thought Mace, but he opened himself up to this strange current in the Force -- knowing there was nothing of darkness in this place and intrigued in spite of himself.  _So much for an evening of uneventful contemplation_, he mused as he followed the errant breeze to its destination beyond the softly waving branches of the ancient tree.

Mace recognized Qui-Gon's favorite meditation site and drew breath to call out softly to him.  But no . . . though Qui-Gon's presence was strong here, he sensed that the kneeling figure beneath the boughs was not Qui-Gon.  The silent figure was so deep in his meditation that he made no note of Mace's presence, and Mace was loathe to disturb that peace.  Softening his Force signature so as not to disturb, he started to turn and leave the lone Jedi to his meditations.

He felt then the cold, unsettling turmoil in the center of his chest that signified to him the Force's warning of wrongness just as he heard the soft moan from beneath the now frantically stirring branches.  Mace started in alarm, the limbs of the giant panelle seeming to retract from his path under the influence of the Force-driven breeze as he pressed forward towards that painful cry.

Mace reached the kneeling figure just as it started to topple over, crouching down and catching the Jedi by his shoulders.  Through Force-enhanced vision he was able to determine that the young Jedi he held was the padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.  "Obi-Wan?" he asked in concern, almost as alarmed by the boy's pallor as he was by the tear tracks on the young man's cheeks.  "Obi-Wan?" he asked again, louder this time, giving the shoulders a tiny shake.

Fever-bright eyes finally looked up at him, but they were clouded, unfocussed.  "Master?" the quavering voice asked, blinking furiously as if attempting to clear his vision.

Truly alarmed now, Mace raised one dark hand to the padawan's face in an attempt to determine his physical condition, wincing at the combination of fever-tight features and the clammy, sweat-cooled skin.  He discovered easily the massive, now system-wide infection that was rapidly coursing through Obi-Wan's body.  As he explored deeper, he found his healing probe progress blocked by . . . something . . . that stealthily encouraged him to look elsewhere, look around -- some type of blank, featureless wall that he would never have noticed had he not been so deeply concerned about the young padawan's condition.

Ignoring that gentle urging to avoid this area, Mace gathered all his formidable strength and went through the wall . . . and what he found behind this seemingly innocuous barrier made him almost break the contact in shock.

\--------------------------------

"There," Qui-Gon said with a slight sigh of satisfaction.  "That was the easy part done."  He continued his gentle stroking of the happily cooing little creature in his hand -- pleased at his progress so far -- and smiled down at the beaming face of the young Anakin.

Qui-Gon looked up suddenly, feeling the slightest of disturbances in the Force that caused him to shiver slightly as some kind of odd breeze wove itself through the scattered trees.  Strange that he could not seem able to locate either the disturbance's source or its content.  Qui-Gon concentrated, frowning slightly, his head tilting slightly as if to triangulate in on the elusive feeling.  His long hair whipped around his face in the wake of the sudden, frantic breeze. 

After a few moments, he was able to determine that the disturbance was coming from the direction of the Temple and he relaxed slightly, confident that whatever it was, there were more than enough Force sensitives at the Temple to handle any incipient crisis.  Time to let someone else handle whatever it was, considering he had a tangled problem of his own to resolve right here.

He had a feeling it was not going to be as easy to re-distribute the bond with the dhu-Linth as it had been with his link to Obi-Wan.  He settled back in meditation posture, attempting to balance his link with Anakin and the tiny dhu-Linth as he began the next phase of his plan.  _Best to just get this over with,_ he thought.

Qui-Gon shivered again in the frigid breeze and turned minutely to make sure Anakin was not getting overly chilled.  He seemed fine, and Qui-Gon guessed with the resiliency of youth and the excitement of their current project he was not feeling the drop in temperature, even given his desert upbringing.

It was odd, but he had never realized before how cold it got on Coruscant when its sun set and darkness began to descend on the planet-wide city.

\--------------------------------

Still reeling mentally, Mace Windu instinctively grasped the shaking padawan and pulled him into his lap, bracing his back against the trunk of the ever-tolerant panelle tree.  He wrapped his arms around the young man, trying with his own body heat to warm the now constantly shuddering apprentice.  Retreating slightly from the morass of pain and misery that was the young padawan's mind, Mace made a frantic mental call to the Healers in the temple, hoping against hope they would get here in time.

_Where the Force was Qui-Gon?_ Mace thought to himself desperately.  While he had no doubt the worsening of Obi-Wan's condition must have been sudden, Qui-Gon must have felt _some_ warning through their training bond.  Without a link of his own to the young man, Mace knew he was severely limited in what he could do for his condition, since he himself had little of the Force healing capabilities. 

He tried a mental call to Qui-Gon himself -- something he hadn't attempted in decades -- but met the blank wall of a preoccupied Force user in the midst of something delicate enough to require perfect concentration and no interruptions.

Frustrated, Mace took a deep breath and attempted to calm himself.  Whatever the reason for his not being here now, he knew Qui-Gon was definitely on-planet and would undoubtedly be here long before the Healers could possibly arrive.  Mace had rarely seen such devotion to a padawan and was sure Qui-Gon would be leaving a wake of disturbed, irate individuals behind him in his haste to reach his apprentice.  When he arrived, Qui-Gon would be able to stabilize the young man through a combination of the training bond and his own small healing abilities.  Mace just had to trust in the Force.

But he found he could not just sit there while the young man crumbled down around him.  The boy was writhing weakly in his grasp, moaning softly.  He grasped Obi-Wan tighter to his chest, careful to avoid the mass of infected flesh on the padawan's back.

Mace, like all the Council members, tried to be neutral in their relations to the padawans and initiates in the Order, conscious of the need for impartiality.  But he had found it supremely difficult to achieve such a balance when it came to young Obi-Wan.  The boy was such a bright spark in the Force -- the picture most times of Jedi calm and serenity, but possessing such an intense joy for life and living that it was hard not to gravitate toward him and just simply bask in his presence.

He had sensed the boy become more withdrawn over the last few years but had thought it merely the change in personality brought on by age and maturity.  There was never, and could never be, anything of the Dark in this boy.  This he knew through the Force and with no doubt in his mind at all. 

But this . . . this morass of pain that he had sensed briefly when he had touched Obi-Wan's hidden feelings shook him to his very core.  Such pain should not have to be borne by one so young, and to be borne for so very long. . . .

Mace shuddered, and resolved to have a long talk with Qui-Gon Jinn when this was over.  Leave it to Qui-Gon to finally obey the Code in this one thing -- when in this case it had obviously done almost irreparable damage to his insecure padawan's psyche.  Force knew Obi-Wan was strong in many aspects, but he should not have had to bear this kind of self-doubt and despair on his own.  There were ways. . . .

"M . . . Master. . . ."  Obi-Wan's pain-wracked voice broke into his thoughts and Mace pulled back slightly to see his face.  Obi-Wan stiffened suddenly, his eyes wide and Mace could not help but feel the searing blast of intense pain that washed through Obi-Wan's body.  He rode it out like Obi-Wan was forced to and tried his best to help the young man dissipate the pain, but he was so infernally limited in what he could do.

Some seemingly interminable time passed and Mace began to become very worried.  _Where in all the Sith Hells is Qui-Gon?_ he thought again.  _He should have been here by now!_ The boy was worsening rapidly, and Mace suddenly knew he would be able to wait no longer for either Qui-Gon or the Healers.  The cold warning pressure in his chest was still there, stronger than ever, and he knew the boy was running out of time.  It was funny that the remoteness of this place had seemed like such a positive thing before, and now. . . .

Gathering himself and the Force, he rose gracefully to his feet -- the smaller form still cradled to his chest -- and began to walk rapidly out from beneath the sheltering tree, determined to meet the Healers part way.

As he stepped out from beneath the last of the stately tree's branches, Obi-Wan stiffened suddenly in his arms and began to struggle wildly.  "Noooooo!" he yelled and heaved himself up, managing in his desperation to escape the startled Council member's arms. 

Once free, Obi-Wan staggered, fell abruptly to his hands and knees and crawled back under the panelle, not stopping until he reached the open space beneath its branches.  Once there, he wrapped his arms around his chest, closed his eyes and just rocked back and forth, seeking -- Mace finally realized -- the almost palpable aura that was Qui-Gon Jinn in this, the Jedi Master's most frequented of sites in the Temple.

His eyes filling with unshed tears, Mace walked back to the stricken young man, scooped him back up into his arms and tried once more to carry him to the help he so desperately needed.  He was not, however, too terribly surprised when he was once more thwarted by the frantic struggles of the boy as soon as they passed beyond the comforting circle of his Master's former presence.

"No," Obi-Wan murmured through his tears, "please, no.  I can't leave you, Master.  Please don't make me leave you."  His voice broke and Obi-Wan reached out frantically with both hands like a child, straining with all his being toward all that he could currently reach of his Master's aura.

Mace, his arms full of a desperately sobbing, struggling, sweat-slickened apprentice, realized with a leaden heart that he was doing more harm than good in attempting to restrain the boy and acquiesced finally to Obi-Wan's desires.  He moved them both back underneath the tree and sank with a growing numbness of his own down to the trampled grass, feeling Obi-Wan instantly relax in his embrace.

The boy sighed in all the contentment that he could feel through his blinding pain and relaxed with a pleased murmur into the dark hand that soothingly stroked his sweat-dampened hair, pressing himself more tightly against the tall Jedi's chest.  Mace murmured soft words of comfort to the young man, knowing in his heart that it was not his voice that Obi-Wan was hearing through his delirium, but that of his absent Master.

"Love you, Master," the young man murmured against his chest and Mace tightened his arms reflexively -- tears of his own falling down upon the young man's hair, following a solitary path through the short strands to make their lonely way down the padawan braid hanging dejectedly across the young man's right ear.

Bringing one hand up to trace the path of those tears, Mace gently straightened the slender braid, caressing the now fever-warmed skin of the young man's temple.  Reaching out to the disordered, pain-filled mind of the young padawan, he reached for the training bond, hoping to somehow ascertain Qui-Gon's position by following back along the link.  He recoiled in horror when he found that the bond was gone, obscured somehow as if it had never been. 

_Was Qui-Gon dead?  Was that the cause of the young man's distress?_

Obi-Wan moaned pitifully -- disturbed at the sudden loss of physical contact -- and Mace instinctively eased the young man back against his chest, running a soothing hand down his arm until Obi-Wan quieted, his constant shuddering having regressed to fitful shivering. 

_No_, Mace thought.  He would know if Qui-Gon had died.  They had been very close themselves once.  Which meant that Qui-Gon himself had relinquished the bond for some reason.  _But, why?_

Obi-Wan shivered weakly again, and Mace reached behind to wrap a fold of his cloak tightly around the young man.  After the boy was securely ensconced, he brought his hand back up to Obi-Wan's face and reached to probe again at the tattered, bleeding cord that was Obi-Wan's mental representation of the missing bond. 

_Damn!_  Mace exclaimed as he finally made the connection as to what Qui-Gon had done.  He had no idea what had possessed the Master to resurrect this particular exercise, but although the Naithane had not been used in centuries, it certainly explained why Qui-Gon had not sensed his padawan's distress.  Had Qui-Gon thought to use this in an attempt to better prepare his apprentice for his Trials . . . or had something happened between them?  Was this a punishment of some kind for Obi-Wan?

_No,_ he reassured himself.  _Never._ A harsh taskmaster Qui-Gon may be, but he would never -- could never -- do anything to cause such suffering to his padawan.

Not knowingly, in any case.

Mace closed his eyes in a moment of blinding, anguished awareness.  Qui-Gon did not know, could not sense his padawan's pain.  The Naithane out of necessity worked both ways in blocking the training bond.

Qui-Gon was _not_ coming, and Obi-Wan was. . . .

"Master?"

The ever-weakening voice brought him back to the painful present, and Mace unhesitatingly replied, "Yes, Obi-Wan?"

"Do you . . . can you . . . forgive me?" The frail voice was almost too low to hear, and Mace Force-heightened his hearing so as not to force the boy to tax himself further.

The words almost stuck in his throat with his effort to push them past his grief.  "There is nothing for me to forgive . . . Padawan."  He hated this deception, but to deny the boy his illusions now would be only the worst kind of cruelty.  Let him lose himself here in the residua of Qui-Gon's aura.  Let him think his Master was with him now . . . let him think the one he loved was here to care for and cherish him.

It was not a difficult charade to maintain.  Force, but it was so infernally easy to love this boy.  Perhaps he always had, and had merely denied it, just as effectively as Qui-Gon had.

But it was too late, much too late, and he cried openly now as he pressed one hand on the back of Obi-Wan's head in an attempt to give the boy what minimal comfort he could.

"But, Master, I have failed you, I have always . . . failed you."  The last was barely whispered into Mace's chest, and Mace began to feel the whirling maelstrom of Obi-Wan's emotions increase as the boy's tattered shields began to unravel and slowly fade away entirely to reveal the totality of the young apprentice's thoughts and impressions.

Mace felt the overwhelming rightness that was Obi-Wan -- his caring, his affection, his endearing naivete -- the sum total of his being that made him shine so much like a beacon in the Force.  However, intertwined with this was the self-doubt, the insecurity, the sense of failing that had been a part of his unconscious mind for so long.  He felt Obi-Wan's need to please the Jedi Master who had so captured his heart, the conviction that he would be finally put aside if he failed to live up to his Master's expectations, the surety that since Naboo . . . he already had.

Mace not only permitted this outlaying of Obi-Wan's emotions onto his, he encouraged them, enveloped them, gathered them all into his mind and sent them back to Obi-Wan.  But he censored them somewhat, softened and soothed the turbulent emotions with his own feelings of approval, satisfaction, caring and affection.  Even love.  The boy so desperately needed that love now.

Obi-Wan was still crying, but as a catharsis now.  He hugged the one he thought to be his Master close, burrowed himself tighter into the big Jedi's cloak.  Mace felt the gratitude, the relief, the simple joy that he was not a disappointment, not an embarrassment, had not -- after all -- failed his Master. 

Mace felt the needy hands that had been clasped around his back relax and fall slowly to his sides, felt a gentle sigh on his throat and just the barest touch of soft feather-light lips brushing sweetly on the side of his neck.

And then the boy was still.

\--------------------------------

The sudden gusting gale force wind that shattered the peace and tranquility of the silent garden stirred up the broad leaves of the solitary panelle tree, weaving them into an almost perfect shelter against the obtrusive light from outside this lonely place of shelter.

Almost.

But the wind could do nothing to mask the high, keening note of grief and loss that arose sharply through the tightly woven branches -- did not wish to -- and so it merely rose in force again, adding its own shrieking counterpoint to that stricken, soulful sound and carried both away across the overcrowded, uncaring landscape.

\--------------------------------

The baby dhu-Linth felt the sudden, bitingly cold wind that wailed across its back and limbs.  It cuddled instinctively into the warmth of its Chosen's hand, searching with its mind for reassurance and comfort.  The One was distracted, however, seeming to be listening for something.  Something he could not find. 

Bonded firmly now, however, the dhu-Linth followed along quietly in its mind as its Chosen -- panicked now -- opened a portion of his mind that had been previously blocked, and reached. . . .

_Nothingness, cold, dark and empty.  Torn away, severed and bleeding._

The link with its Chosen exploded into a grief and despair so intense, so profound, that the little dhu-Linth was forced helplessly back into its own mind -- shaking at the anguished emotions of an intensity its young mind had very little correlation to. 

It tried tentatively, then with more strength, and finally with some hopelessness to regain contact with its Chosen, but there was no answer to its pleading, desperate calls.  It met only grief . . . and an all-consuming, almost infinite pain.

The dhu-Linth was a pragmatic species.  This one was too young to comprehend all that its species had learned over the centuries, but it did understand loneliness . . . it did understand pain.  Until it encountered its Chosen, there was little else it could know.

And now, it knew it again.

Resigned to its fate, it curled tighter into the now almost motionless hand of its Chosen, searching for mere physical comfort where it could not attain the mental and emotional solace it needed to survive.  Keening softly, it rubbed its tiny head against one lax finger, feeling still the comforting pulse-beat of the One who had chosen . . . and then refuted it.

The cold breeze caressed it still with icy fingers, and the tiny dhu-Linth shivered weakly, trying to press its tiny body closer into the non-responsive hand, striving to glean what little body warmth it could through the minimal contact.  Such pain it was, to feel the immediate presence of its Chosen, to feel the aura so tantalizingly close, so overpoweringly intense, and yet not to be able to join with it.

The hatchling dhu-Linth curled its nose under the shelter of its vestigial wings, shivering constantly now.  It felt vague regret.  It had so looked forward to discovering what light was.  Not that it minded the darkness, since it provided its own kind of solace now, warm and close and comforting.  The darkness was all it had ever known, all it would ever know, now.  Yet, those brief flashes of joy and light it had shared with its Chosen had been of such captivating, superlative beauty. . . .

It snuggled closer still into the warm, callused flesh of its Chosen's hand and inhaled deeply of its characteristic scent -- the earthy, exotic scent it would have used to recognize its Chosen even without the mental bond.  Exhaling gently, it let its mind drift into the welcoming darkness, let go of the pain it had suffered since before finding . . . and then losing . . . its Chosen.

And it very quietly, very peacefully . . . died.

\--------------------------------

Much later, when the setting sun had long since given way to the deepest of moonless nights, the faint light from the sweeping metropolis broached the tree-limbed canopy of a tiny, secluded garden.  It shamelessly illuminated two motionless forms left alone in the stark quiet beneath a stately, serene tree.  The shimmering glow reached out with harsh, mindless purpose to outline the silvering hair and still-falling tears from the larger of the two forms as it tenderly cradled the much smaller form lying so silent and still in its lap. 

The larger form pulled the limp figure tightly against its chest as if in an attempt to warm it -- all the while shaking silently in absolute, abject misery.  Looking up skyward at long last, the larger form squinted and then turned its face beseechingly against the long, faceless wall as if to hide itself and its ceaseless tears from the uncaring, merciless light.

But this was not to be.  Could never be.

For it was never fully dark on Coruscant.

End


End file.
